


Three Stops Made By The Beatrice, Before Its Inevitable Demise (TWO)

by cosmogyral



Series: Three Stops Made By The Beatrice [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyral/pseuds/cosmogyral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TWO. The Polar Regions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Stops Made By The Beatrice, Before Its Inevitable Demise (TWO)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erraticvariable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticvariable/gifts).



**TWO.**

The Polar Regions.

At some point in their peregrinations, the boat began to take a northerly route. They made land at a Land's End and stocked up heavily on winter coats. Sunny objected very strongly to hers, which made her look not unlike a bundled sausage, but as she began her campaign of persuasion, they were accosted by a salesman with a very friendly demeanor and a nametag reading Vincent F. D'Onofrio. Besides being the name of an actor, it was an unpleasant pseudonym. They were forced to take off at haste.

Luckily, they had an ample supply of jerky. Beatrice (who had shown early signs of vegetarianism) soon began to want nothing but the salmon Violet fished and Sunny sauteed. They took turns feeding her slices, while Klaus explained various things about the fish's anatomy. Beatrice took it all in stride, though she seemed to particularly enjoy the lectures about the gill system.

When they finally ran out of paprika, Sunny insisted on making landfall. As it turned out, there was no paprika at all, and a distinct lack of fruits, but the people were very friendly once it was cleared up that they were not envoys from a mysterious organization bent on anyone's death.

After the noon meal, Sunny offered to help cook that evening, as Violet had already been pressed into service fixing a water filter. A boy about her age had caught the fish, which each seemed bigger than he could carry. She thanked him and asked him if they were always this hospitable to strangers.

"Uh, you're making me meat," the boy said. "We're best friends already."

"Y-es," Sunny said, uncertain if this was maybe a test of some sort, and at any minute someone would leap out and press them into service as maids, sideshows, or dwellers in a utopian commune. "I was thinking of searing it with pepper."

The boy clutched his heart. "Forget what I said a minute ago. Are you _taken?_"

His name was Sokka. He didn't appreciate the finer culinary arts, but he'd come up with a list of fourteen potential uses for Violet's hair ribbon, and he had strong opinions about the construction of the Beatrice which kept them going until they started swapping tales of marine distress. They'd already talked for an hour and a half before either of them discovered that the other was an orphan.

"We lost our parents to fire," Sunny said, choosing to leave out the kidnapping, sequential murder of their guardians, and adoption of Beatrice.

"Hey," said Sokka, passing her his knife. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Photo from the National Maritime Museum.


End file.
